


The Rainbow Orchard

by GamblingDementor



Series: Out of Oz on the farm [3]
Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, farmers, farming au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/pseuds/GamblingDementor
Summary: Second installment of my bookverse inspired lesbian farmers AU.In which Elphaba and Glinda learn to be more appreciative of each other's work.





	The Rainbow Orchard

Bit by bit, flower by flower, their estate grows.

 

Of course, the first gift that allowed its founding was nature's. Elphaba and Glinda were ready to sail across the rest of the world, far beyond Oz if needed to find the place they would be proud to call home, but they hadn't needed go so far. Just a bit past the Munchkinland frontier, an oasis in the middle of the strange desert surrounding the damned Oz welcomed them with open arms. Trees − sweet Lurline, a whole flock of trees scattered about the little patch of fertile earth, some yellow and pink, even blue, and yes, green, a whole array of colors in the canopy of foliage. It had felt more like home than any Pertha Hills or Quadling Country, far more than Shiz and the Emerald City, even Nest Hardings that saw the birth of Elphaba.

 

Everything else was their hard work. Elphaba's most of all, who built them a house, but Glinda made it into a home. Glinda, whose kindness rarely ever went beyond the emptiness of polite courtesies at Shiz and before, has found a purpose to her existence in this new life out of Oz. There is meaning in her good words when they're to please Elphaba. There is a pride in domestic work when it keeps the household running, when it makes Elphaba happy, when it smooths out the sharp arrogance she used to feel towards such menial tasks. She keeps the home clean and tidy and pleasant because Elphaba built it and inhabits it and because she trusts only herself with the load of housework that the couple of them generate. Who would put a warm meal on the table every night if not her? Who would make the bed? Who would even deserve to, if not her who holds the memories of how they unmade it? Every day she spends on the cottage farm is a brush stroke that completes the picture of their idyllic little life.

 

The work she puts into her daily running of the home feels like a fraction of what Elphaba does in return. She used to wonder what drew some Gillikinese girls to put up with a Munchkinlander for a husband, to move to the bread basket of Oz and choose the farming lifestyle. She had envisioned her life in the Emerald City, as far from any unartificial green as can be. How foolish that was of her, she's only seeing now, she's only seeing after a year of living with Elphaba. There is no other possible outcome to their lives, no other occupation that could make her as happy as their life on the farm, and all of that is thanks to Elphaba's hard toil in the fields, which Glinda keeps a watchful eye on. She is ever so grateful of the way Elphaba built their little home ; the kitchen, where Glinda spends most of her days, has an open view on the fields and orchards, so that should she miss the green girl too much, she can spy on her activities through the windows. Strong arms lifting all sorts of tools, climbing the multicolored rows of trees to harvest their fruit, handling boxes and crates of the freshest produce, the only rural sight Glinda could get accustomed to.

 

It's a beautiful life they've built out here and often as not, Glinda finds herself staring lovingly out the window looking at a particular green silhouette and she cannot believe that she's made it to this moment in her existence. It's hard work, though Elphaba makes it easy on her, and the rewards are more than worth the effort.

 

Today, she's been canning the first harvests of spring, filling the pantry with a bit of her sweat and a lot of her love. In the field, Elphaba is at her greens, pitching poles for the climbing beans to wrap around. It's her latest project, more of a fancy than anything, but then, the homestead has let both of them be creative in ways they never expected to be. Glinda doesn't even let herself ponder on what her mother would say if she told her about the latest batch of strawberry-rhubarb jam she cooked up, much less the fact that she took more joy in it than in the twenty years she spent in Oz being the courteous and elegant girl the Uplands and Arduennas expected her to be, that she feels prettier in her dirty apron than in any frill and loops. She wouldn't understand the love filling up Glinda's whole heart and soul every time she glances out that window and sees her lover at work. Elphaba feels the same way, of course. Lost in the forest of bamboo poles, she looks more in her element than she ever had at school. Green among green, a long, elegant bean pole of her own.

 

"Ah, but which is the woman and which is the vegetable?" She wonders out loud.

 

The cat at the window sill meows loudly in outrage.

 

"Oh, don't give me any of that, you know I'm joking," Glinda retorts, scratching his neck. He can only pretend to be hurt on behalf of his other master for so long and purrs into Glinda's hand. "She'd be the masterpiece of any garden."

 

Maybe a punishment on Glinda's naughty comparison, the proof comes much too soon that Elphaba is not vegetable. The shriek Glinda hears as soundly as if she was standing right next to her could not have come from anyone or indeed anything other than Elphaba Thropp.

 

"FUCKING DAMNED SON OF A SHITHOLE…" A whole ribbon of insults boom across the patch of land, all more colorful than the other. "GLINDA! GLINDA, COME HERE QUICKLY!"

 

Glinda, who has known no worry since she left Oz, feels her heart fill with fear and her legs carry her faster than she has ever run in her life out to the field.

 

"Oh, sweet Lurline…" She gasps as soon as she sees it and near enough retches right into the cabbage patch.

 

Elphaba fell. Who knows how, maybe losing her balance on the tall ladder, maybe a sudden wind, maybe distracted by one of the cats that Glinda sees peeking from under the cauliflowers but she fell off the ladder and not in a pretty way. There must have been something sharp catching her fall because her left leg is bleeding and the other one is angling all the wrong ways. Glinda feels frozen in place, unable to find any way out of the terror that fills her as she stares at the wound.

 

"Don't look!" Elphaba snaps, pain bringing back the old harshness of her ways. Glinda looks into her eyes rather than at her legs, finds her wincing and sweating. She smiles tentatively, fussing with her apron, not sure what to do with herself. "My love, don't look, you'll only upset yourself. Help me inside, this needs tending."

 

The walk back to the home has never seemed so long to Glinda than with Elphie clutching her side, her left leg dragging behind and the right one wobbly, an arm flush into her chest protectively. She grunts with every step, leaning on Glinda so heavily that both of them can barely make it to the next. Glinda doesn't look down, but her mind is flooded with the memory of the blood all over Elphaba's leg and she feels dizzy with her angst.

 

"Are you… Are you quite alright?" She breathes out with the effort.

 

It's a stupid question, a childish hopeful one, but Elphaba's fingers dig into her arm in reassurance.

 

"I will be," she replies as they near the home − it feels like an hour passed since they set out to cross the very small distance. "Don't you worry."

 

Glinda, who is very much worrying, helps Elphaba to her chair in the kitchen, fretting about to try and grab her a glass of juice, a fresh towel, anything that might be of relief. Elphaba takes the juice, which she downs in one gulp, the towel, and grabs Glinda's hands.

 

"Glinda," she says and though the weakness of her left grip leaves her anxious still, Glinda quiets down to listen, "My dear, listen to me. Bring me the case from that cupboard over there."

 

That soothes Glinda a little bit, knowing that Elphaba has a plan of action. She always does, of course. Glinda grabs the case and opens it in front of Elphaba on the table, in her reach. Potions and utensils of all sorts, lots of gaze and clean fabric, everything one might need in such an emergency. Elphaba takes Glinda's hand a presses a kiss of thanks on it before setting to work. The sight of her tending to her own wounds is a much needed reminder that Elphaba knows exactly what she's doing.

 

"Don't look yet," she orders Glinda. "It looks worse than it is, but the left leg might be broken, I think. The arm definitely is. I need to secure them in place."

 

"Elphie…"

 

"This is nothing, I assure you. I said don't look," she reminds her and Glinda turns back around. "It'll be a few weeks and I'll be back on my own two feet. Had you finished the cans this morning?"

 

Glinda nods. She's looking away out the window. The structure Elphaba was working so hard on has fallen down, the ladder folded into the cabbages. She smells the sharp scent of ointments, hears fabric tearing. Her eyes squint shut at the sound of Elphie hissing in pain.

 

"We'll need them sooner than I thought," Elphaba says. "I won't be working for a while. Help me with this, will you?"

 

Elphaba rubbed the blood away from her left calf and bandaged the wound, some sort of rulers keeping it in place.

 

"The right foot is sprained. I don't think it helped to walk on it. My arm is hurting, I can't reach it."

 

She gives Glinda specific step by step instructions, what balm to apply, how to tear the clean towels she kept for the specific purpose of bandaging and apply the strips, tugging just enough, how to hold the foot without damaging it any further. Often, it seems to Glinda that Elphaba is an endless well of wisdom and knowledge. They did after all leave Shiz with a full case filled to the brim with any books that might be of relevance to the lifestyle they envisioned, completing the preparations with buying a wagon of supplies in Munchkinland, and Glinda should have known that there would be at least minimal medical knowledge and supplies in this all. Still, she is impressed with the thoroughness of Elphaba's knowledge. Soon the right foot is bandaged and after that, the arm, tucked into her chest securely.

 

"Well, I don't know why you're looking so gloomy," Elphaba smiles cheekily. "I have my right arm intact."

 

To prove her point, she wraps it around Glinda's waist and pulls her close, kissing her shoulder, but Glinda is unconvinced.

 

"I suppose you'll have to become used to seeing me around the home," Elphaba says, shrugging.

 

She does become used to it, and faster than she could have thought. Looking at Elphaba out the windows was pleasant enough, but nothing compared to Elphaba's actual company, her conversation and presence and jokes. Even within one day, she feels so happy to have Elphaba all to herself that she forgets about her worries. They talk all the rest of the morning, Glinda trying to distract Elphaba from the pain, and whether that purpose is filled or Elphaba is just amiable enough to pretend for her sake, it seems to work. She bakes some pancakes for lunch with the freshest fruit as a topping, everything to cheer Elphaba up from being unable to labor out there.

 

"See, this is just like a vacation," Elphaba jokes.

 

"Our life is a vacation," Glinda replies dreamily. "You're right, it's just a matter of weeks. You seem to be holding up."

 

"I'm indestructible, don't you know?"

 

At night, though Elphaba protests vehemently and repeatedly, Glinda leaves her the entire bed, taking some duvets and making a little mattress for herself on the floor next to her to avoid all risks of injuring Elphaba any further. All night long, she turns and tosses, scratches herself, hisses and groans, and Glinda does everything in her power to soothe her for hours, though she can hardly feel the exhaustion. Her entire mind is made of worry and she wishes she could embrace Elphaba back to health, heal her with love. She acts the diligent carer, though Elphaba pretends that nothing is amiss as soon as Glinda is at her side.

 

After the first night of tending to Elphaba, rubbing her forehead and arranging her pillows, Glinda finally falls asleep like a log, cuddled into herself in her small bed of fortune. A ray of sunshine streaking across her face wakes her up. Startling up, ready to assist her poor wounded again, she finds the bed empty, the sheets drawn up into a semblance of a made bed. There's a dull sound coming through the flooring from downstairs. Glinda hesitates, takes half a minute to make a proper bed, and walks down.

 

"Morning, dove!" Elphaba sing-songs, merry as a cricket.

 

She has sat herself at her chair, Ozma only knows how, and is whittling herself a pair of crutches, the first one already leaning against the table.

 

"How in… Elphie, how did you get down here?! You're supposed to be resting!"

 

Elphaba smiles, whistling cheerfully as she chips away a big chunk of wood from the branch she got herself, and gestures for Glinda to join her at the table.

 

"I crawled," she says. "Green and awkward as a caterpillar. I'm surprised you didn't wake up."

 

There is hardly any way to know when Elphaba is jesting, but for once, Glinda suspects that she tells the truth. What she would have given to be a spectator to that, if the prospect of Elphaba hurting herself wasn't so frightening.

 

"There will be no more of that," she tells Elphie. "You're a woman, not a creeper. And why are you making these? Your arm's broken. Your leg's broken, your foot sprained. You're not going anywhere, crutches or not."

 

"I had thought I might…"

 

"You might nothing," Glinda says with finality. "Keep your butt on this chair and I will make you breakfast and that'll be the end of that."

 

She does bake her something nice, some berry muffins with her favorite grape juice, a bit of leftover peach mousse. It took some getting used to, some creativity to switch to absolutely no animal products in any of her meals for fear they might be Animal products, but Glinda took to the challenge quite eagerly. Living out here brings its whole set of new things to learn and each of them is more interesting than anything ever taught at Shiz.

 

It's pleasant enough to spend entire days with Elphaba at all times. The banter is relentless, of course, and Elphaba has more than one naughty remark to tell on any occasion. It almost distracts Glinda from the work that still needs done in the home, what with Elphie's eyes tracing her as she cleans the room, as she fluffs up the bedding they have installed for her downstairs (easier than have her crawl up and down the stairs every day), as she tends to her wound and replaces the bandages, as she cooks, as she walks, as she talks. Whatever she does, she does under Elphaba's gaze. Sat in her chair with any of the cats on her lap, she has become a very entertaining piece of furniture. One that Glinda very willingly spends much time with at night before climbing back to the bedroom on her own.

 

Slowly, day by day, their reserves start to dwindle down. Elphaba begins to point Glinda to the patches that need picking and plucking in the field.

 

"I'm not sure how much longer," Elphaba sighs one evening. "The apricots are coming along ripe soon, so are the cherries. Are there any strawberries left?"

 

Glinda shakes her head, tossing a dandelion salad for the supper. Elphaba has been restless all afternoon ever since she asked Glinda to draw up an inventory of the pantries for her.

 

"Not since this morning's scones."

 

She dives into the bowl of salad Glinda puts in front her. She's gotten quite adept at eating one-handedly. This entire situation has gotten more comfortable than Glinda expected. The house rest she imposed on Elphaba has been most effective. Pleasant talk, massages at her frequent request, the soothing cool of the home all seem to work miracles. Not quick enough, though. It's been weeks since the fall and though the sprained foot is almost firm enough to risk walking on, there hasn't been much progress otherwise. Elphaba fears the garden might be going to waste while she's prevented to work on it.

 

"I was afraid it would come to this," Elphaba says and Glinda puts a hand to her good shoulder, squeezing softly and pressing a kiss into her hair before sitting in front of her. "My dear, you don't have to take that risk, but…"

 

"I'm not as fragile as you think," Glinda retorts, tossing a dandelion flower at the naughty thing across the table. "I climbed a tree once."

 

"Did you?" Elphaba catches the flower and shoves it into her mouth. How uncouth. She has the grace to swallow it before speaking. "In your frocks and cotillions? What I wouldn't give for a picture."

 

"I'll have you know I had a cousin," she says pointedly, the memory bringing back the best of her manners, "who was almost as naughty as you. We sneaked out of the parlor when Ama Clutch fell asleep one time and he made me climb a tree to eat apples. She was horrified when she found a hole in my dress."

 

"Why, Miss Glinda, I didn't know you had a criminal past," Elphaba grins. She pauses, bites her lip. "It does make me feel better about asking you to fill in. I know you like the home, and…"

 

"Elphie, darling, I can do this," she says firmly. "It's a wonder I didn't already, are we going to starve off because I can't climb a ladder?"

 

"Historically, I'm the one who can't…"

 

The matter is settled. That evening, they cuddle up on the couch and Glinda nestles into Elphaba's unharmed side and listens to all the instructions and knowledge on gardening that can possibly be conveyed in just one night. Too much of it, in fact. She wakes up at the crack of dawn tucked into a very stiff sleeping Elphaba.

 

"Shoot…"

 

It's a mess of rearranging Elphaba on the couch, her lithe limbs not cooperating, but Glinda feels she's grown stronger since Elphie got weaker. She feels there's just about nothing she can't do. In her sleep, under a moonbeam, Elphaba looks peaceful. She never dreams, but Glinda thinks that here on the farm, her rest is as blissful as can be. Her face used to be stern and tense at all times and her sleep was no exception. Glinda likes to believe that the farm has smoothed all the anger in her heart and her mind. Smiling at the sleeping beauty, she arranges a small space for herself and falls back asleep pressed against Elphaba's side.

 

"There's a way to do this safely," Elphaba announces as soon as breakfast is over later in the morning. "I can't have you risk injuring yourself."

 

Glinda quirks an eyebrow.

 

"And you would know that? Need I remind you which of us has never fallen off a ladder and broken half the bones in her body?"

 

Nothing deters Elphaba from what she has set her mind to, of course, nothing except the premise of a great argument. She can manage that quite adequately no matter the circumstances. Grabbing the crutch that Glinda forbid her to use the past few weeks for fear she would parade around their land and injure herself even further, Elphaba gestures her to her other side. Holding onto one another, they make a funny way to the rainbow orchard where at least half the hues need plucking.

 

"You know, my dear, life would be a severely tedious business without a few sticks in the wheels. I'm sure I'm making your life a whole lot more interesting than it might have been."

 

Glinda cannot argue with that, of course, though her idea of a surprise is quite the opposite of the nagging worry that Elphaba might have injured herself even more seriously than it looks. And goodness knows she tries to hide it with every ounce of strength she has left.

 

"Well, I'm sure I'll be a perfectly decent replacement orchard harvester in the meantime."

 

A long chair is installed for Elphaba in the middle of the small fruity forest that is their blessing. Glinda, true to her natural devotion to Elphaba, has brought her an umbrella, half the pillows of the house, her favorite snacks, a few interesting books and, though she had no hand in that, one of the cats settles in her lap as soon as she sits, another between her feet. She scratches them between the ears, makes herself comfortable on the seat that will be hers all day to watch over Glinda's work.

 

"Are you quite alright?" Glinda asks, patting the cushions behind her. "Do you need anything?"

 

Elphaba smiles. Pulling Glinda's hand from the pillows at her back, she kisses her knuckles.

 

"I should be asking you that question," she replies. "You're the one who will be in sweats before the day is over."

 

It doesn't even take that long. Though she had some idea through observation, Glinda never really knew how much effort farming required, not first hand. Her forehead and back are drenched within minutes of climbing up the ladder and getting to work on plucking the apricots. Still, she's decided to not let it bother her. Elphaba did it for months. She can do it for a season, and maybe not even that depending on Elphaba's recovery.

 

"How are you, my darling?" Elphaba calls out, her voice muffled by the cloud of bright orange colored leaves. "Don't fall."

 

Glinda, who is picking fruit at a snail's speed, balancing a bucket between two thicker branches, rubs sweat off with the back of her hand.

 

"I've never felt better," she replies with fake cheer. "Don't you worry about me."

 

They make sparse but pleasant conversation and after a tree or two or five, Glinda starts to get the hang of it. Bucket after bucket gets emptied in the wheelbarrow and she feels almost in her element back up the next tree. There is something soothing about the surrounding foliage, the softest breeze whispering against her neck, a fresh relief, the scent of their very own produce. She starts to envision the preparations that will be made of her work. Jams, for sure, probably a good portion of the apricots canned whole, maybe a pie once in a while… Elphaba biting the crust and grinning at her, Elphaba rubbing a dollop of jam off Glinda's cheek, Elphaba carrying the canned jars to the upper shelves of the pantry for her. More than ever, everything Glinda does is surrounded by Elphaba, aimed at Elphaba and at pleasing her. If Elphie felt even a fraction of that devotion when she was out in the field, then Glinda understands the accident quite easily. The images flooding her mind would be more than enough to distract any person. Only with determined focus does she manage to keep her mind at her task. Focus and Elphaba's guidance.

 

"That bucket is a bit overfilled," Elphaba says and Glinda fills the next one a bit lighter.

 

"The ladder doesn't look secure," Elphaba says and Glinda secures it before climbing the next tree.

 

"You're climbing down a little fast," Elphaba says and Glinda climbs down slower at the next tree.

 

Another person might take Elphaba for controlling or dominant. But Elphie didn't take another person with her out here to the oasis, she took Glinda, and Glinda knows that every suggestion is for their safety and peace of mind. Goodness knows that their paradize of a life would turn much harder if both of them were injured at the same time. The hours pass and Glinda starts to count the trees she thinks she might be able to finish today before exhaustion wins the battle. Safe with the knowledge that she is doing the job exactly according to her instructions, Elphaba has been reading one of the books Glinda brought her and from time to time, she hears the rustle of pages turning, a huff or a snort from the reader. She is starting to wonder if she might ask Elphaba to make harvesting a two people job in the future. There is a special peace to the field that is not dissimilar, but also not identical to the quiet of the home that she enjoys very much and she might want to join Elphaba at the task when it comes to that.

 

Until a voice breaks that peace.

 

"I wasn't done with that page yet," a squeaky, though distinctly male voice speaks out.

 

Glinda nearly falls off the branch she'd been straddling, saved only by a thinner branch she holds onto, but her startled cry hasn't escaped Elphaba.

 

"E-Elphie…"

 

There's a sigh and though she cannot see Elphaba and doesn't fully trust herself to get down the tree safely enough to know what's going on, she can feel the frustration in Elphaba's voice as clearly as if she was next to her.

 

"I thought you wanted peace out here too, you little… Look what you've done, she's fretting. Glinda, my love, there is nothing to worry about. It's just a Cat."

 

The calm in Elphaba's voice settles her heart a little bit, though she finds she has lost all mood to finish the rest of the harvest tonight. Her arms shaking, she steps down the ladder and finds Elphaba glaring at one of the cats − a Cat, apparently. Glinda wonders the last time she spoke to an Animal. Likely none since poor Dr Dillamond, and surely not any before either. There's a second time for everything.

 

"I'm… I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean…"

 

"Oh, none of that, thank you very much," the Cat replies. "I suppose the Cat's out of the bag."

 

Elphaba bursts into laughter, though no one else does. She holds up a hand for Glinda to come nearer, who finds herself awkwardly sitting half on the narrow seat and half in the middle of the air as the Cat squints his diamond eyes at her.

 

"He used to be a farmer's Cat in Munchkinland," Elphaba explains. "When we bought the supplies, I offered him a home with us where he didn't have to eat mice and have his kittens taken from him, but he only accepted if you didn't know about it. He…"

 

"I like quiet," the Cat says sternly, which contrasts mightily with the silliness of his voice. Glinda chides herself for that thought. "I like peace and reading and being left alone."

 

Marking his last words, he jumps off Elphaba's lap and trots towards the home. Glinda stares at him until he enters the cottage house, not quite sure what to think. She blinks blankly, then shakes her head, turning to Elphaba who scoots over to give her more ample room to half sit, half lay with her on the long chair.

 

"Glinda," Elphie says and Glinda loves the softness of her voice in the red-orange late afternoon, "He meant no harm. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. You were startled, I know."

 

Indeed, Glinda can feel her heart still pulsing fast, the beat of it racing against Elphaba's hands at her wrists. She smiles. In the past, she might have objected or worse, been completely indifferent to the presence of any Animal, for she didn't feel it had any importance at all. Now, she's indifferent to it because she knows how dearly she's craved for a life of quiet with her Elphie. If the Cat was longing for the same serenity they chased after, then she'll happily share the house with him.

 

"Only because I thought us alone," she replies. "What if I had something naughty to say?"

 

Elphaba takes to the change of mood quite readily. Pulling Glinda's hand to her lips, she presses half a dozen kisses to it before replying.

 

"I should have been the one to say such things," she replies. "If you think I haven't noticed how lovely you look in overalls, my dear…" The kisses trail up Glinda's arm, the crook of her elbow, her shoulder, her neck. "Hasn't it been a very long day?"

 

Glinda takes the kisses Elphie gifts her, though they both know there won't be more than that on this chair, not with Elphaba injured and the rest of a day's work to wrap up.

 

"So, how did I do?" Glinda asks, combing her fingers through Elphie's shiny black cascade of hair as she presses lazy kisses in the small of Glinda's neck. "As a farmer?"

 

"You were already a farmer," Elphaba retorts, her breath warm against Glinda's sweaty skin. She must smell of farm work and toil but, her lips at Glinda's neck and her sharp nose poking into her to breathe her in, Elphaba does not seem to mind. "But you did very well. I'll let you handle the harvests from now on, I'll just sit here and watch."

 

"Only if you cook," Glinda says, swirling a strand of hair around her finger − it never curls and she loves that about it, as impossible to bend to your will as Elphaba herself. "You might look just as lovely in an apron… But then I'll have to suffer the result of it."

 

"I imagine you'll have a lot to teach me."

 

"Weren't you the one who taught me there's a book for anything?"

 

Elphie is brought inside to start working on supper one-handedly while Glinda ensures the harvests are safely stored for her to start preparing and conserving in the following days. She leaves the chair outside − she'll definitely want Elphaba's company in the orchard again tomorrow when she starts on the cherry trees. The books and cushions are put back where they belong in the living room. Two of the cats jump on the pile of cushions as soon as Glinda puts them down. The Cat is nowhere to be seen, maybe sulking somewhere. In the kitchen, Elphaba is squinting at a recipe from Glinda's favorite cooking book. She smiles, her heart swelling in fondness.

 

"Do you need any help?"

 

Elphaba glances up, then vaguely gestures Glinda away.

 

"Not at all," she says, looking around the room for whatever utensil or ingredient she seems to be missing. "I could do this in my sleep. Relax yourself, go take a bath, freshen up, I'll be a while."

 

After a day out in the sun, a bath sounds like the blessing she needs. She leaves Elphaba to her half invalid expertise cooking and wonders if she'll find the kitchen in flames when she comes back. Of course, Glinda herself had more than one thing to learn about cooking initially, but she has the privilege of being indifferent to water, which came in very handy on more than one occasion. But then, more than ever, she trusts Elphaba with anything, anything at all.

 

"I love her," she sighs as she strips down to nothing in the small bathroom. The words are a frequent prayer to her short moments of solitude from the green woman. "I love her, I love her."

 

"No need to get so romantic about it," the same squeaky voice says and Glinda startles once again, covering herself with a towel, only now noticing the Cat sitting on the window sill. It's a place of the home that seems to always have a cat at any given time and she wonders how often it has been the Cat instead.

 

"… I'm quite happy sharing the house with you, Mr…"

 

"Sand," the Cat completes. "Not the name they gave me, but even I can reinvent myself out here, you know."

 

He is a beautiful Cat, at any rate. The name is a clever idea, for the brown and beige tones of his fur would likely match very well with the dirt out there. It fits him.

 

"Yes, very well, Mr Sand… I'm fine with having you along but, well… Not when I'm bathing, if you please."

 

"And if I don't please?" He retorts petulantly. Someone's been spending too much time around Elphaba. Glinda doesn't budge, pointing to the door, and the Cat rolls his eyes. "Well then, don't count on me to help with burglars and thiefs."

 

Glinda resists the urge to shoo him away as he jumps off the window sill and leaves the room, surely to go complain to the other master of the house about the terrible mean thing upstairs. Glinda sighs. The bath she pours herself has never felt so needed. She scrubs the grime and dirt off her skin, changes the water and infuses herself some more, using probably more than enough of her homemade soaps and soaks. The bathroom is filled with a strong scent of roses, courtesy of Elphaba's green hand, who planted a whole bed of them out there at the front of the house, latching into its walls and climbing them. She breathes in deeply, then out all the wariness of the day.

 

"That," Elphaba comments as Glinda joins her back in the kitchen after much time spent arranging herself in the mirror, "is almost as lovely as the overalls. You spoil me, my dear."

 

Glinda swirls around to show off the frilly pink dress she chose for dinner, how fluffy it looks and feels under the hand. She tosses her hair in a teasing show for Elphaba. She perfumed it with attar of roses. Elphaba's eyes narrow in determination and she attempts to stand, but slips back on the chair. Glinda laughs and walks up to her, wrapping her arms around Elphaba's neck.

 

"And how is my own personal cook doing?" She asks, planting a kiss on Elphaba's forehead.

 

Elphie basks into the embrace for a bit, her face pressed against Glinda's breasts as her tousled hair is combed with careful fingers. She disentangles herself reluctantly to gesture around.

 

"I haven't burned down the house, have I? My dear, where do you keep the knives? I've had to improvise…"

 

Glinda has to hide a snort when she sees the salad torn to pieces with Elphaba's bare hand. Putting a hand to Elphaba's jaw, she caresses her cheek with a stroke of the thumb.

 

"And this, my love, is why I cook and you harvest."

 

They do make a decent dinner together, of course. And of course, in time, Elphaba's arm and legs are fully back to health. In time, Glinda's work is again in the kitchen. Just as importantly, Elphaba is finally able to safely climb the stairs and share a bed with Glinda. But sometimes, and only when they really want to, Glinda helps Elphaba out in the field and Elphaba helps Glinda here in the kitchen, and there's nothing amiss in the world for that. In a way, Glinda finds herself more appreciative than she was of Elphaba's work and she knows Elphaba is just as grateful for her housework. It just never hurts to reinvent yourself whenever you desire.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you've read this! Please. You don't need an AO3 account to post a comment.


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